


The last thing on my mind is to leave you

by JuliaBaggins



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The nightmare is angsty, both of them are very soft, there's a hurt animal but it gets help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: Aziraphale finds a hurt crow, suffers from a nightmare and then later gets some very needed hugs from his demon...





	The last thing on my mind is to leave you

**Author's Note:**

> Upps, there's another story - these two just more or less write themselves for me atm 🤭

The sun was shining down brightly from a cloudless blue sky, there were birds singing in the trees and the man walking through the park lost in his thoughts did have a soft smile on his lips. He was happy, about just being there – in his favourite park, in the city that had become his home, on the little planet that he had come to love so much. Between so many people enjoying the day too; families taking a walk with their dogs, children laughing together, an elderly couple playing chess against each other, two girls laying next to one another and looking up into the sky. 

A hundred and one little stories all sharing this one moment, this bright afternoon in the park; an opportunity to take a breath in the middle of the stressful lives that most of those people did live. A beautiful slice of life that nearly wouldn’t have happened, and the man who now had reached a free bench where he sat down with a soft sigh was oh so aware of this. The world hadn’t ended, but sometimes this still was a fact that was hard to grasp. How easily it all could have been.. _gone_ , just lost forever; he didn’t like to think of this, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. And in those moments, he liked to come here, or to another busy place, to reassure himself that everything was just perfectly alright. They were all still here, and he was so happy about this.

 

Aziraphale had just closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on nothing but the laughter of the children close by, the proof of how happy they were, how free, how _alive_ , when he noticed something else. There was another noise, more distant, but so different from the delighted youngsters that it somehow still found a way into the angel’s ears. He tried to listen closer, make out the direction of its origin, and then walked there, across a patch of grass in the richest shade of green and towards an old oak tree. And there, he saw it.

Underneath the tree, on a patch of dry earth surrounded by old roots, a crow was sitting. Or rather laying, one of its black wings stretched away from its body in a slightly weird angle. Aziraphale dropped down to his knees, and once he noticed how the bird started a weak try of getting away, he tried his best to make some comforting noises. He had a closer look, and saw the black feathers laying around on the ground, feathers that certainly should be attached to the poor crow’s wing. With a touch as careful as only an angel could muster it, Aziraphale picked up the bird, and inspected the wing. It clearly was broken, partly ripped apart, and he wondered if a cat might have caused this, and if not, what could have hurt the poor creature so badly. In any case, things didn’t look good for the crow, and when it weakly raised its head from Aziraphale’s hands to look at him out of eyes like little black diamonds, it nearly seemed to the angel as if the bird might know this. And even though he knew that he could help, that he _would_ help, the thought broke his heart.

“Shh, my little friend, everything is going to be perfectly alright”, he told the bird in a low voice, and then reached out to softly grab the broken wing.

The crow’s beak shot forward and left one of Aziraphale’s fingers bleeding, but he didn’t react to it; the angel just held onto the wing, and after a second, he heard the satisfying noise of tiny hollow bones growing whole again, and after another moment, the crow blinked at him in something that Aziraphale would have called confusion in a human’s face. He was not sure if birds could get confused though, but this one certainly seemed as if it was.

After an encouraging nod from Aziraphale, one where he had no idea if it could get his intention across but nevertheless hoped that it would, the bird carefully stretched its wings, both of them, and started moving them, both in sync and each as gloriously covered in shining black feathers as the other. Once again, the crow’s beak connected with Aziraphale’s skin, but this time it nearly was caressing; like a dog nibbling at their owner’s fingers in a moment of comfort. The angel smiled, gave a gentle stroke to the top of the bird’s head and then watched it fly away, into the pastel blue sky and a long, happy life; filled with as much popcorn (this particular crow had developed a weakness for it after spending a summer in a little park right next to a cinema) and shiny things as its little heart could wish for.

 

The day passed calmly for the angel; he wandered around the city for a little longer, bought himself a rather delicious piece of strawberry cake and then spent the evening with a collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets in his favourite armchair. Before going to bed, a habit he performed quite frequently in these days, he picked up his phone, and called a number he had memorized ages ago, because it had been the only one that mattered. 

Crowley answered the phone after the second ring, not hiding the smile in his voice when he greeted his old friend, and once Aziraphale proposed the idea of meeting at lunchtime the next day he agreed immediately. After they had decided on a place to meet, it was silent for a moment, and Aziraphale would have liked to see his friend’s eyes, to see if there maybe was more to read in them than in the silence that seemed to call for words he wasn’t sure he was ready to say. 

It took another 27 beats of the angel’s heart until he heard a soft “Good night, Zira”, and then the line went dead. With a smile, he hung up the phone, and when he laid down in his bed upstairs, there still was a vague feeling of happiness warming his body. The angel fell asleep quickly, and his last thoughts before he stepped into the realm of dreams weren’t focused on the lovely food he’d have for lunch in the next day, but rather on the company he’d be in…

 

Nightmares were a rather rare occurrence for an angel, but sometimes, they did happen, and if they did, they were as unpleasant as those haunting the humans. Or sometimes, even worse. In this warm summer night, after a few hours of calm sleep, a nightmare was born in Aziraphale’s mind, and when he woke up from it, gasping and with pearls of sweat running down his forehead, the images from the terrible dream had burnt itself into his consciousness. As well as the sounds. He still could hear the terrible crack of bones breaking; the sound of a voice he had known from the beginning of his story that couldn’t help but scream. 

And no matter if he closed his eyes or stared towards the sun of an early morning illuminating the world outside of his window, Aziraphale still saw a broken wing in front of his eyes, black feathers ripped apart by the claws of vicious demons. He tried to fight against the image, to not see the tears in Crowley’s eyes anymore, but it didn’t work. Just like nothing in the nightmare had worked, like he had been unable to do _anything_ \- forced to watch how his best friend got tortured while he himself was frozen to the spot. Right before the angel had woken up, there had been another expression in his demon’s eyes, something that wasn’t agony. Something that had looked an awful lot like _forgiveness_ , and Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought. He’d rather give his own life than watch Crowley suffer like this, there was no question about this, and the thought of his best friend forgiving him for letting him die without doing _anything_ felt like a punch to Aziraphale’s stomach.

 

In contrast to his angel, Crowley did have a rather pleasant dream that night, and when he was woken from it in the early morning by a noise of unknown origin, he grumbled and at first wanted to just turn around in his satin sheets and hope to find sleep again. But then, the noise repeated itself, and he recognized it as a knock. A knock at his bedroom door, which meant this only could be one person. And oh, how ridiculous this was, that the angel would teleport himself here, into his flat, but then still see it necessary to knock; and nevertheless, it caused a smile to spread on Crowley’s face.

Crowley quickly stood up from his bed, stretched himself and then went towards the bedroom door, not even sparing a thought towards the glasses resting at his bedside table – if there was one person in all of heaven, hell and earth in between that he was comfortable enough with to not wear them, it was whom he suspected to be waiting in front of his door now. And so he opened it, a cheeky smile in place that quickly froze on his features. In all of their 6000 years together, Crowley had rarely seen the angel looking so pale, so shaken, so _scared_ , and before he could do more than blink at him in confusion, he already found himself in a tight embrace.

Without knowing what had caused this, Crowley returned the hug, gently closing his arms around his friend, and after a minute or ten, he started to whisper into the angel’s shoulder.

“Hey, calm down angel, everything is okay, the world is saved, you’re safe, nothing bad is going to happen to you-“

Aziraphale leaned back a little, loosening the hug but still keeping his arms locked behind the demon’s neck, and Crowley was shocked to see that there were tears glistening in his friend’s eyes.

“Zira, what happened?”, he asked, while loosening his friend’s hold on him, only to be able to grab the angel’s hand and guide him over towards the bed, where they sat down side by side.

 

The angel saw the fire burning in Crowley’s eyes, the danger towards whomever he might think to be responsible for making his angel sad, and under other circumstances, this fierce protectiveness might have made Aziraphale smile. But on this morning, he just shook his head, and then looked down towards his hands in his lap; fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I had a nightmare”, the angel finally admitted, and after a moment of silence, he felt delicate fingers touching his cheek.

Crowley moved Aziraphale’s head so he couldn’t help but look into his snake like eyes, and in them, there was as much sincerity as in his voice.

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of, angel”, and for a brief second, Aziraphale wondered if he ever had heard the demon’s voice quite that gentle, “And whatever it was, I’m sure that it won’t happen. I’ll take care of you, okay? I promise, no one will be able to hurt you.”

It took a moment for Aziraphale to answer, and when he did, his voice was so low that a human might have been unable to hear his words. But as it was, Crowley’s ears were a little more advanced than yours or mine, and so he was able to understand everything his friend said.

“And what if they hurt you?”, the angel whispered, and Crowley was so surprised about this that for a while, he forgot to breathe. (Not that this would have been a problem, he didn’t need to do so after all, but he still preferred to, and it was rather rare thing that he stopped it.)

“How, how do you mean that?”

“You said it earlier – the world is saved, and we played quite a role in that. What if heaven or hell decides at some point that they still are upset about having missed the opportunity for their great war? What if-“, Aziraphale once again had to fight against the images of pain itching the deepest lines into Crowley’s handsome features while his wing got abused in the most horrible ways, “What if they come after you, what if they _hurt_ you?”

 

“Hey, come here”, Crowley said, and pulled at Aziraphale’s jacket until he followed the demon and they both laid down at the bed, facing each other, “No one is hurting me, you understand? They all got better things to worry about than us, and- nonono, let me finish please”, he placed a finger on the angel’s slightly parted lips, “Even if someone would decide to come after me, which they won’t, I can take care of myself quite well. And you know what’s even better?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“I know that if things went down, I’d have an angel fighting by my side. An angel whom I’d prefer to all the forces of both hell and heaven.”

“I would”, the angel confirmed, “Fight with you, that is. Fight _for_ you.”

“I know”, Crowley smiled, and decided against pointing out that this was what they already had done more or less for a few thousand years.

There might have followed more words, getting closer to a truth swirling somewhere in the air between them like an electric tension that they both were just waiting for the other to acknowledge, but as it was, right in that moment, a yawn escaped the angel’s lips, and Crowley smiled softly.

Without saying anything, Crowley miracled his blanket to cover them both, and felt with a warm fluttering of his heart how his angel snuggled a little closer. After a second of hesitation, the demon wrapped an arm around the body by his side, and felt it relaxing into his touch. For a while, Crowley suspected that Aziraphale already might have fallen asleep, but then, the angel asked a question; his eyes staying closed but a subtle blush appearing on his cheeks. It was a slightly unusual request, but of course Crowley followed it, and shortly after, both of them were covered by majestic black wings as if they were a second blanket. And finally, Aziraphale could fall asleep, feeling how soft and how _whole_ the feathers around him were. Just like his heart…

 

A few hours later, two men walked through the busy park, one of them happily eating a sandwich, the other just smiling between dark glasses. They were talking about this and that, and sometimes, nearly as if on accident, their hands would brush against each other. And none of them acknowledged this, but they both were able to see it in the other’s face, that this was something exciting, something new, something _special_ for not only one of them. 

After a while, they sat down at a bench with a nice view above the park, the sun in their faces and the sounds of joyful people in their ears, and at some point, the blond of the two men spotted someone he knew. A crow, happily jumping around in the grass with a few other birds; a crow that would be called Andy, and that he’d visit for many years to come. And when the crow extended its wings, black feathers glistening majestically in the sun before it flew away, the man took a deep breath. And then, he took his companion’s hand, gently intertwining their fingers, and once he felt the other squeezing his hand, saw the nearly shy smile on his face, he knew that his friend had been right earlier. Everything was just perfectly okay…

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story please do leave me a comment 💕


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